somewhere on 81 south the cloud dwellers turned angry.
they launched ice clods from their perch, amid the mountain-hugging mantle.
luckily for travelers dodging curve balls down below,
their lessons with cupid proved a wash.
the best-aimed bullets melted midway,
landing like pigeon presents,
not with a crash but a splatter.
heading out of the crow’s nest for a week plus on the road –
snapshots recorded here.